


Set Aside

by Spiderlily_Writes



Category: Original Work
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fantasy, Friends to Enemies, Original Fiction, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:53:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28140438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiderlily_Writes/pseuds/Spiderlily_Writes
Summary: They were friends once, and could have been more but for circumstance. Perhaps they still can be.
Relationships: Azkadellia Atropha/Io Fontaine
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	Set Aside

**Author's Note:**

> Hello loves! Time for something completely different. This is a request from a follower, featuring her original characters, a pair of young witches. Once friends, they now find themselves on opposing sides of a conflict. Enjoy.

Dellia braced herself for the next of Io’s barrages, uncertain whether or not her best shield would be able to take the blow _at all_ , much less in a way that left her unscathed. She gritted her teeth and stood firm, despite the fact that the hemisphere of force created by her spell was the only thing that stood between her and the javelins of lunar light that Io was whipping forth from the end of her spear. She’d already taken half a dozen of them head-on, and given that the moon was full in the sky and Io’s hair glowed bright enough to make even the _stars_ seem dull in comparison, that was likely only the beginning.

“Drop the shield, Dellia!” Io called across the ten feet or so between them, barely audible over the din of the battle happening a short distance away. “Drop it, surrender, just _leave_. I don’t want to fight you if I don’t have to.”

Huh. Perhaps it was nothing, but Dellia could have _sworn_ that there was something strange about Io’s voice. Something shaky, or uncertain perhaps. A wry grin found its way to Dellia’s lips, despite it all. “Why? Because you know I’ll win, and embarrass you in front of all your cool Lunarian friends?”

This was hardly their first fight, and of all of them, Dellia could count _her_ victories on one hand. But there was definitely something weird going on with Io, and she figured it couldn’t hurt to roll with that hunch.

Io growled and flung another insubstantial but all-too-dangerous javelin at Dellia. It wavered halfway between them, and shattered against her shield with barely a sound. Dellia frowned. Her magic should be stronger than that. Either Dellia had suddenly grown in power—which was unlikely—or there was something _very_ wrong with Io. She squinted, taking a cautious step forward, and saw that, indeed, her old friend was looking a little unsteady on her feet.

“Io?” Dellia called. “You okay?”

She had meant to sound cocky, but the words came out concerned, instead. Dellia knew it was silly to ask such a thing of her opponent, an _invader_ , someone who had come to burn and destroy the people with whom she’d made her home, and yet…somewhere, deep down, worry gnawed at her.

She watched as Io planted the butt of her spear on the ground beside her, probably meaning to look imposing, but it was clear she was using it for support. “I…I’m fine. Don’t patronize me!” she snapped, in an uncharacteristic display of frustration. “Put your…your shield…”

Without warning, Io’s knees buckled, and despite the spear’s support, she fell to the ground like a heap of dirty laundry. Her weapon went with her, and rolled far enough away to be out of reach, even if the collapse _was_ a ruse of some kind. “Io!” Dellia cried.

Her shield broke as soon as her concentration did, and apparently her feet moved faster than her brain, because she was running across the field toward Io without a moment’s hesitation.

—❦—

Sheets rustled as Io stirred from a dreamless slumber. She didn’t open her eyes quite yet; her head was still pounding and she wanted to savor the last vestiges of sleepy numbness while she still could. She drew the covers tighter around herself and tried to ignore the odd, nagging feeling that something was very _wrong_.

“Io, are you awake?” Dellia called, her voice faint, as though she was speaking from another room. There was…something wrong with that idea, something about Dellia’s voice sounding like that made Io’s chest ache for reasons entirely unrelated to her illness. She groaned quietly as she heard footsteps approaching. Of course Dellia wouldn’t just _leave her_ _alone_.

Still, she wasn’t about to lie.

“Yes, I’m awake,” Io muttered, though she winced at how loud she sounded in her own ears.

The footsteps got a little louder, then quieter again, as though Dellia was taking care to make as little noise as possible. That feeling of utter _wrongness_ intensified, twisting in her gut like a snake.

The bedroom door creaked open, and Dellia stepped inside.

“Good morning. I made some soup. It’s…not perfect, but it’s something. I hope eating local food doesn’t set your stomach off, since you’re not used to it.”

The realization hit Io like a lance of ice being rammed through her heart.

In less than a second, she had thrown the covers off the bed, jumped to her feet in a defensive stance, and begun to gather her will around her to cast a shielding spell.

Less than a second after _that_ , splitting, searing pain blew through her skull and a wave of nausea racked her body so intensely that she nearly collapsed. She _would_ have collapsed, if Dellia hadn’t reached out and caught her in one surprisingly strong arm, then guided her to sit down on the bed.

Io groaned, pressing her hands to her temples as she waited for the pain to subside. Dellia, _damn_ her, snorted. When she spoke, her tone was gentle, though, with just a hint of reproach.

“That probably wasn’t wise. I don’t know what you’re sick with, but you’re definitely sick, and you need to take it easy, okay? You fainted while we were in the middle of fighting.”

Dellia huffed, and Io scowled up at her, squinting past the pain. “Why…why am I here? Why didn’t you finish me off, or…just leave me there?”

She watched her former friend chew her lip for a moment, as though she hadn’t really considered the answer to the question yet herself.

“You know? I’m not sure. It was probably dangerous to carry you back. One of the Lunarians might have seen, and thought I was taking you prisoner. Lot of things could have gone wrong.”

They watched each other for a moment. Io could see pain, there, behind Dellia’s eyes.

“Just instinct, I guess,” Dellia said quietly. “Truce? At least until you’re better?” She extended a hand to Io, who took it, reluctantly, as though she were shoving her arm into the maw of some fell beast.

“Truce,” Io confirmed, and then, more quietly, she added, “and thank you.”

The ghost of a smile flitted across Dellia’s face, but it was gone in an instant. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “You’re welcome. Come on. Like I said, I made soup. And I promise it’s not poisoned.”

Io cocked an eyebrow at her, and Dellia looked sheepish.

“It’s not _intentionally_ poisoned, okay? If you feel weird after eating it, it’s because your body isn’t used to the food here. But it’s that or nothing.”

Dellia turned on her heel and breezed from the room, moving with more grace than Io remembered. She felt her face grow warm as she remembered the days that the two of them had spent together so comparatively carefree, but she shook the thoughts away and followed Dellia into the kitchen.

The building was…cozy. That was probably the best way to describe it. It was small, too; as far as Io could see, the entire structure consisted of a bedroom, a kitchen, and a small sitting area near a fireplace. The floor, made of aged but well cared-for wooden planks creaked slightly under her feet as she walked, and she cringed at each little noise, each one only exacerbating the throbbing of her head. Once in the kitchen, she could smell the soup Dellia had mentioned, and her stomach growled in anticipation.

It was loud enough for Dellia to hear, and the other woman giggled. “Well, I guess I don’t have to ask if you’re hungry, right?”

The sound of Dellia’s honest, mirthful laugh was enough to make her heart twist in her chest. She missed her friend, as much as she didn’t want to admit it. It was much easier to force those emotions down or away when they were fighting, but here? In Dellia’s home? It was a cruel mirror of a life they had once shared together, and it was making her more uncomfortable by the second.

“I suppose not,” she agreed, wearily, pulling out a chair from the kitchen table and taking a seat. “How long do you plan on keeping me here?” Io asked, curious. “I certainly can’t go anywhere unless you let me, not in my current state.”

When Dellia sets two bowls of soup down on the table, one for each of them, she heaves an exasperated sigh. “Io! I’m not holding you prisoner. I’d have thought I made that clear. We might have been fighting out there,” she said, pointing to the door, “but in here, I made a stupid mistake, picked you up when you passed out, and now I guess I’m letting you stay until you feel better.”

Io frowned. “You shouldn’t be helping an enemy,” she said, finally. When Dellia sat down, the look she gave Io was cold enough to make her shiver.

“I’m not the one who decided we were enemies, Io,” Dellia snapped, an undercurrent of pain beneath her words, one that immediately sent a rush of shame though Io. Which, of course, was foolish. She knew her cause was just. She knew she was right, and Dellia had decided they were enemies when she took up arms in defense of those that Io was to defeat. It was that simple.

Wasn’t it?

“I…” Io began, but she trailed off, looking away.

“Just…eat your soup,” Dellia said, making it very clear that the conversation was over.

Io had a feeling that it was going to be a long day.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Characters belong to @osmosisjessie on twitter.  
> If you'd like to request a story like this one, come find me [@spiderlilywrite](https://twitter.com/spiderlilywrite)!


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